The Duke Of Burgundy File

If you walk into Peter Strickland’s The Duke of Burgundy expecting a historical biopic about a French nobleman, you will be bewildered within the first five minutes. There is no duke. There is no Burgundy. Instead, there is a crumbling, sun-drenched European villa populated only by women, the constant drone of insects, and the quiet, ceremonial rustle of silk.

Strickland is a sensory filmmaker. He is less interested in dialogue than in texture . The sound design is extraordinary: the whisper of a velvet glove, the click of a metal buckle, the hypnotic thrum of a moth’s wings against a glass jar. The cinematography (by Nicholas D. Knowland) is lush and anachronistic, full of deep, saturated reds and golds, giving the film the look of a 1970s European softcore art film, but without any actual nudity or explicit sex. The Duke Of Burgundy

Sidse Babett Knudsen (best known for Borgen ) is a marvel of micro-expression. As Cynthia, she is the reluctant dominatrix. She doesn’t want to punish Evelyn; she wants to read about butterflies. Watching Knudsen switch from stern cruelty to exhausted, loving tenderness in a single glance is a masterclass in acting. If you walk into Peter Strickland’s The Duke

A gorgeous, melancholic, and oddly moving study of the butterfly collector's paradox: The moment you pin down your desire to examine it, you risk killing it. Instead, there is a crumbling, sun-drenched European villa